


An American, a Soviet, a Brit and an Aussie walk into a cabin...

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Cabins, Cooking, Fireplaces, Fishing, Gen, Hunters & Hunting, Nature, Rain, Spies & Secret Agents, Storms, Thunder and Lightning, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 01:27:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Napoleon, Illya, Mark and Kitt manage to have a few days off together.  Solo drags them to a cabin in New York state for some R&R, though his idea of camping and the other's differed.No worries, pressure, chasing or being chased... that's what Napoleon thought.





	1. Chapter 1

How they managed to get a long weekend off at the same time was a bit bewildering to Mark Slate and Kitt Kittridge, but not to Napoleon Solo. His philosophy was to never look a gift horse in the mouth. Not that Slate and Kittridge were complaining mind you, put perhaps it was Solo’s suggestion as to what they could do with their time off that had them a bit baffled.

He’d convinced the two of them, along with Illya, to take a camping trip to a cabin located in New York state for some simple R&R, take in a little fishing and hunting as well. It would be a real ‘guys’ weekend, just the four of them

It took a bit of convincing to get the ever stubborn Russian to say yes; Napoleon hadn’t resorted to blackmail as he had when he forced Illya to join him along with Mark and Kitt to sail in a regatta held at Block Island off the coast of Rhode Island more than a year ago.

It was actually the last time the four of them had gotten together recreationally, but that had gone from a pseudo vacation to a dicey assignment in the blink of an eye. *

This time Napoleon gave Illya assurances there were no boats involved, or women for that matter; it would just be peace and quiet while communing with nature, as well as getting some real fresh air.

Granted they had dealings with pastoral settings when assignments took them to pristine locales, but this would be different. There’d be no stress, no pressure, no one chasing them or anyone to chase.

They each brought their own supplies, backpacks filled with suitable clothing, sleeping bags,canteens, fishing poles, hip waders… all the necessary accoutrements to catch fish which they could cook and eat.

They brought hunting rifles as well, though Illya had with him a Soviet Model 1938 carbine based on the M1891/30 Mosin–Nagant design. That was his second choice with which to hunt as he’d also brought his sling bow and a quiver of arrows.

The weapon was compact, which Kuryakin liked as it was based on a slingshot design; he proved being quite adept using it while on assignment during the ‘Virtue Affair,’ though he did have some electronic trickery in demonstrating it to the enemy. 

If he was going to hunt at all, it would be with the sling bow as his preference, he’d carry his rifle as a backup should he encounter something like a bear or a Thrushie of course, though he had his suspicions they wouldn’t see any of those birds here; still one never knew.

He hadn’t gone after game in a very very long time, Illya reminded himself. He was taught as a child that hunting was for food not for sport. He would never take the life of an innocent creature for amusement. 

Still, he supposed he now hunted something called the enemy, those malicious humans who were hell bent on either destroying the world or dominating it at any cost.

Illya finally said yes to Napoleon’s entreaties, thinking that he might recapture some of those few good memories from his childhood when he went hunting as a boy in the Ukraine. 

Granted he’d done it with his father as he was too young to carry and shoot a rifle by himself. It wasn’t easy for an eight year old Illya to hold the weapon, but his father helped him steady it. For his age and being undersized he was an excellent shot. These were good memories of being with his papa. 

Apparently the allure of the river appealed more to Mark and Kitt as catching fish was more their speed than hunting. 

Napoleon on the other hand had his plan all mapped out and it involved neither hunting or fishing.

Illya tried to pull Napoleon’s leg, cracking wise that American made rifles were inferior to his Soviet carbine. He was only trying to get a rise out of his partner, but he failed miserably.

Solo ignored Illya’s comment and put it off to his stubborn Russian, or perhaps Soviet ingrained pride, rather than taking it as a joke. Why would he; Illya rarely joked around…

Once arriving at their location the agents surveyed the cabin, finding it not completely devoid of modern conveniences; they’d have electricity since there was a generator. A fridge, a separate freezer, as well as a cast iron stove replete with cookware, assorted dishes, cutlery and a sink with a hand water pump off to one side in the small kitchen.

Napoleon liked the look of it all, though it would be a challenge cooking what he had planned on a wood burning stove. That would be his relaxation for this trip, preparing meals for them all. He was looking forward to trout being caught from the river as he had a nice recipe in mind..

There was the option to cook outdoors over a campfire if he wished, or even use the fireplace could be used. It was nice to have options, Napoleon thought to himself. He just wanted his fellow agents and his best friend to enjoy themselves.

The supplies were unloaded in the kitchen, there Solo surveyed the stash, most of it being what he’d brought along in his cooler.

Bacon, plenty of eggs, cereal, ingredients to make flapjacks from scratch, baked beans, fresh carrots, potatoes and other assorted vegetables, cubed beef for making stew, hot dogs, sauerkraut, mustard, onions and hot dog rolls.

Bisquick mix, milk, B&M Brown Bread and baked beans made by the same company….he’d serve those with sliced hot dogs, several cans of Campbell’s Chicken noodle soup, two packages of wide egg noodles, as well as a box filled with all sorts of spices. He had a few other surprises up his sleeve that he didn’t mention to the others.  


There was plenty of beer, soda, a bottle of vodka, Gordon’s gin, and one of Jack Daniels. There was a can of Chock full o’ Nuts coffee, loose tea and raspberry jam, and a jar of orange marmalade, and strawberry jam. That had them pretty well covered.

Luckily there was an old fashioned camp style coffee pot; water for tea could be boiled in one of the many pots hanging on the wall.

“Cor, Napoleon,” Mark said as he eyed all the food.“There’s enough here to feed Coxey's Army.* We may not have fish at this rate.”

“Firstly, nice American historical reference. Secondly, in regards to the food...you’ve never had to feed my partner,” Napoleon snickered. “And I’m looking forward to you catching some trout, which I plan to pan-fry with garlic, lemon, and parsley.”

Slate broke out laughing upon hearing that, suddenly recalling how much food he’d seen the Russian pack away during their stay on Block Island.”**

Illya actually blushed. “What can I say...I have a high metabolic rate and need to eat a lot and often.”

Napoleon was well aware that was true in part, but he also knew after reading Illya’s private personnel file kept by Waverly, that his partner had nearly starved to death as a child towards the end of the war...he was alone at the age of ten and managed to barely survive a concentration camp. He escaped and lived by his wits until the Red Army found him, half dead hiding in the ruins if Kiev.**

Eventually Illya was taken to an orphanage where food wasn’t exactly plentiful either. ** 

Solo suspected the memory of that hunger stuck with Illya, almost like a stray cat when rescued; it would continue to eat like it didn’t know when it would get another meal, even though it was fed more than enough food every day. Not that his partner was a stray cat, but the analogy made sense.

There were three bedrooms upstairs, two singles and one with bunk beds. Large easy chairs, and a comfy sofa in front of a stone faced fireplace in the living room that made for a relaxed atmosphere. 

Off to one side was a rough hewn table with benches, there they’d eat their meals, or if they preferred, they could eat outside. Napoleon wanted everything to be laid back.

Illya immediately set about making a fire in the fireplace and after lighting some tinder he had a good crackling blaze going within minutes. 

There was a large stack of firewood on the side of the cabin, protected from the elements by a covered a wrap around porch. Still, the Russian brought more of the logs inside, stacking them high by the fireplace.

“Expecting a blizzard mate?” Kitt said.

“One never knows.” Illya gave him one of ‘those’ looks.

That shut the Aussie’s mouth; Kitt should have known better than to question anything the Russian did.

Everyone made busy getting settled in once they’d finished unloading and looking over the place.

Mark and Kitt took the bunk beds, joking that Solo and Kuryakin were often forced to sleep in the same bed while on assignment, so a bit of privacy would do them good.

Mark having April for a partner never had to deal with that situation as Waverly authorized separate sleeping accommodations, though once in a rare while he and Dancer were forced to share a room. He’d give April the bed, gentleman that he was, and the Brit would sleep on the floor or a sofa if there was one.

Kitt had no partner, as the Old Man was still looking for the right fit for the Aussie agent, so the sleeping arrangements were a non-issue for the man from down under..

There were no washroom facilities, just ceramic wash basins that would be filled by pitchers of water from the pump in the kitchen.

Out back was a standard issue out house, replete with a crescent moon cut out in the door. Thankfully someone remembered to bring toilet paper as there was none.

Illya took one last trip out to the jeep, retrieving a couple of books he’d brought with him to read. Something light he said, to do with physics.

The others made no comments, figuring to each his own. They were all accustomed to Illya having his nose buried in a book at any given time of day.

“Rain is coming,” Kuryakin mentioned.

“How do you know? You can’t even see the sky through the trees,” Mark asked. “Did you bring a transistor radio with you and hear a weather report?”

“No, but I just know.”

“Trust me Mark, when Illya predicts the weather, he’s usually, as you Brits say, spot on,” Napoleon chimed in.

“Well we better get that fishing in now as I don’t fancy standing in the river in hip waders while being rained on. Who’s up for it?”

Kitt said he was game, but Solo and Kuryakin had other plans.

Napoleon declined as he wanted to start making a beef stew for supper. Any fish caught would be cleaned and prepared for the next day.

There was a radio in the kitchen and he turned it on, listening for a weather report that indeed confirmed Illya’s warning.

A storm was coming in from the coast, and could potentially meet up with a weather system moving down from Canada. 

The radio announcer warned, _“Time to batten down the hatches folks as we might be in for a good one. Strong thunderstorms are a possibility as well as high winds and heavy rain. Stay tuned to this station for further updates. We now return you to your regular broadcast.”_

Strains of the Little Rascals singing ‘House of the Rising Sun’ filled the kitchen as Napoleon continued to chop the potatoes, carrots, celery and onions for the stew He was slowly braising the beef in a cast iron frying pan, adding a dash or two of cooking sherry for a little extra zing.

He marinated the beef in it ahead of time along with just the right spices

 _“_ _There is a house in New Orleans.They call the rising sun. And its been the ruin of many a poor boy.And god I know Im one…”_

Napoleon smiled; he wouldn’t mind being in New Orleans, the food, the music, the _women._ He began singing along.

_“My mother was a taylor. She sewed my new blue jeans. My father was a gamblin’ man. Way down in New Orleans…”_

“Napoleon, please do not sing?” Illya walked into the kitchen carrying his rifle, a small canvas tarp, an empty, weather worn backpack and a length of rope dangling from it as well as the slingbow and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder.

“Come on, my singing isn’t that bad!”

“It is like nails on a chalkboard and an offence to my ears. You know I have perfect pitch, which you do not.”

“I see you’re loaded for bear,” Napoleon looked at his partner’s gear. “Where are you going?”

“Bear? No not bear… deer, hopefully. I have a feeling we will be needing extra food.”

Napoleon ignored the fact that his idiom yet again gone over Illya’s head, or did it really? Kuryakin possessed genius level intelligence, but idioms seemed to puzzle him. Sometimes his partner wondered if he was faking it… 

“Suit yourself tovarisch, but I think we have more than enough to last the weekend.”

“We will need more I think. Now if you must sing, could you please wait until I am out of ear shot?”

“Fine. Have your communicator with you?”

“Yes _Mother._ ”

“I’ll call you when the stew is ready.”

“I should be back before then with plenty of venison.”

“How do you know you’ll find a deer that fast?”

Illya tapped his temple with his index finger as he smiled, leaving Napoleon’s question unanswered.

Outside, Illya passed Mark and Kitt on their way back from the river.

“Catch anything?”

“You should have seen the one that got away! A monster trout,” Mark held his hands up indicating it was over two feet long.

“Bit of a tall tale,” Kitt winked.” Nothing big enough worth keepin’ mate. Where you headin?”

“A little hunting before the storm hits. We are going to need more food.”

Kitt said nothing and Mark simply shook his head as they headed back to the cabin.

Once out of hearing distance he finally said something. “All the years I know the man and I still don’t get him. More food, really?”

“Sometimes neither do I, except maybe I get it when he talks about the weatha turnin’. He’s like a bloomin’ barometah. He’s serious about his huntin’ though, a bow _and_ a rifle?”

“Well there could be bears lurking about and a bow might not cut it, I imagine,” Mark said. “Illya did mention wanting to bow hunt.”

“With that bloody little thing? Why not a propa bow and arrows?”

“He is really good with that sling bow, or so I’ve heard,” Mark said.

They stripped off their waders, leaving them on the porch to dry, but they brought the poles and tackle inside with them.

Their nostrils were assaulted by the scent of something mouth watering.

“Napoleon, what _are_ you cooking!” Mark called out.

Solo’s head popped through the kitchen doorway. “Beef stew a la Solo, but it’s not ready yet. You can whet your appetite with this.” He handed them a tray of cheese, crackers, red grapes and something very unexpected.

“Is this what I think it is,” Mark accepted it, his mouth agape with surprise.

“Yes it’s brie and caviar. Don’t spoil your appetite and make sure you leave some for Illya.”

“Now this is what I call campin’ with style!” Kitt laughed before he scooped up some of the caviar onto a cracker and stuffed it in his mouth.

There was a low rumble outside in the distance.

“Sounds like that storm is almost here,” Kitt said,” I hope Illya has sense to come in outta the rain.”

Napoleon hesitated, “ I think he does, especially when he knows what I’m making for dinner. There’s also apple pie for desert.”

“Good God man,” Mark chuckled.” You baked a pie...guv, you’re going to make a great house wife someday. Lucky the woman who finally nabs you!”

  
“Number one, I doubt I’ll be nabbed as I’m probably not the marrying kind. Number two, I didn’t bake the pie. I bought it at a bakery in the city and kept it in the cooler with the other supplies. Unfortunately, ice cream wouldn’t have survived the trip so there’ll be no a la mode I’m afraid. I have more dessert for tomorrow and Sunday as well.”

“I think it’s pretty posh for a camping trip,” Mark said,”We were expecting roughing it with tents and sleeping bags!”

“A Solo doesn’t rough it unless forced to do so,” Napoleon winked.

  



	2. Chapter 2

Illya cocked his head as he heard the thunder rumble off in the distance, trying to calculate how far off it was as he quietly stalked along the river. He thought perhaps there he’d spot a deer coming down to drink. 

As the thunder boomed louder this time he saw it, a big buck with a broken antler. It looked like it had been in a fight or two during mating season and probably lost.

As Illya aimed with his bow he felt the first raindrops on his head, so did the deer. It looked up and that’s when Kuryakin let the arrow fly.

It found its target and the buck went down. Illya was prepared to use his rifle if need be as he did not want the creature to suffer.

When he arrived beside it, it was indeed dead. He knelt, putting his hand on the deer’s shoulder and he bowed his head as his father had taught him as a child. He thanked the creature for giving its life to provide food.

Something told him they would need more than what they had. He didn’t know how he knew this, he just did. For that reason he was all the more grateful for having downed a good sized deer.

Illya pulled a large knife from the sheath on his belt and immediately began to dress the carcass.

The rain was still light as he stored the meat in his backpack and wrapped the remainder of it in the canvas tarp; tying off the ends of it, he slung in over his shoulder. It was heavy but he could manage,

By just looking at him no one could guess how strong he actually was. Some people called him skinny but he was all muscle with not an ounce of fat on him. 

He often thought that if he indeed survived to retirement that would grow fat as he aged; if he could find a wife who would tolerate him, they would have a few children, not necessarily in that order. It was a pleasant thing to imagine. His fatalistic side sat like a devil on his shoulder whispering to him that none of these things would come to pass.

He gave a last glance to the remains of the deer, knowing it would feed the creatures of the forest; nothing would go to waste.

By the time Illya neared the cabin the sky opened up and he stepped up to the porch dripping wet. Opening the door, he called for a little help.

Kitt took the rifle, the bow and quiver and Mark grabbed the tarp from Illya’s shoulders.

“What in heaven’s name have you got here?”

“A deer, killed with a single arrow. It was quite a good shot if I say so myself.”

He removed off his backpack and headed to the kitchen with Mark.

When Napoleon saw all the venison unwrapped he couldn’t help but blurt out his wonderment. “What the hell are we going to do with all this?”

“Eat it of course. We will need it.” 

Illya made that statement again as if he were having some sort of premonition. 

“I will butcher it, and I believe I saw rolls  of freezer wrap and Saran wrap in a cabinet. I will need those. Some of the meat we can freeze the rest will be put aside in the refrigerator for our immediate needs. The front shoulder meat will do nicely for more stew. You can cut it into chunks when you are ready to cook it, perhaps marinade it in Worcestershire sauce; I saw some in your supplies. Do you have enough vegetables to prepare another stew?”

Napoleon stood there with his mouth open. “Yeah, ummm... okay. Yes, I do; whatever you say.”

He was unaccustomed to Illya Kuryakin taking charge in a kitchen as the man claimed he did not know how to cook, other than survival cooking.

His partner still managed to surprise the American time and again.

Once finished with the butchering, Illya washed his hands and arms in the sink, splashing a little water on his face. He said nothing as he went up to his room to change from his damp clothing.

He heard Napoleon whistle and call a short while later that dinner was served and Illya came down dressed in dry dungarees, a green plaid flannel shirt with a black turtleneck, and a pair of black military style boots on his feet.

Napoleon had set the table. There was a red and white checkered tablecloth, white mismatched dishes, flatware also mismatched, and there were napkins of different colors as well.

In the middle of the table was a large serving bowl with a ladle, filled with stew. It was served with it was a small Ceasar salad and some crusty French bread.

“I am impressed,” Illya said as he seated himself beside his partner. “I had no idea you had brought salad and this bread.”

“Oh, I have a few other surprises tovarisch. Pass the butter please? There’s brie and caviar in the fridge; I’m surprised you didn’t spot it when you were putting the venison in there.”

“Who says I did not?” Illya smiled. “I must say Napoleon, you’re idea of camping and mine are very different.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Do not get me wrong, I will fully enjoy what you have prepared for us and I appreciate your efforts to make this an enjoyable stay in the woods.”

“Thank you, a toast then?” Napoleon suddenly realized none of them had drinks. “Beer everyone?”

They all nodded their approval.

Once their drinks were in hand Illya raised his, “To Napoleon Solo, the founder of the feast.”

“Here here,” Mark said.

“Good on yah, mate,” Kitt chimed in.

The stew was beyond description and everyone was silent as they enjoyed their meal. When they were seemingly full (except Illya of course) Napoleon rose from his chair.

“I hope you have room for dessert and coffee or tea?”

Napoleon disappeared into the kitchen as the others cleared the table, bringing in everything to be cleaned. The rest of the stew was covered with Saran wrap and left on the counter to cool before putting it in the refrigerator.

Mark washed the dishes, Kitt dried and Illya put them away. Napoleon retrieved smaller plates from another cabinet and slicing into the apple pie, he gave everyone a generous helping. 

“What no ice cream?” Illya said, facetiously, of course.

“Illya, _ really?”  _ Napoleon said. 

“I was just joking. Though if you told me what you were bringing, we could have packed a container of ice cream in dry ice.”

They all chuckled at that, though secretly Napoleon chastised himself for not thinking of it.

The coffee and tea were ready and everyone carried their plates to the table. Again there was silence as they enjoyed end of their repast.

Dinner was now over, the last of the dishes done and the four agents retreated to the sofa and easy chairs. 

For a while they stared into the fire like a deer in headlights.

“I don’t know about you but all this fresh air has me fairly well banjaxed. I’m about ready to fall asleep,” Mark said.

“Nightcaps then, gentlemen,” Napoleon stood.

They all nodded their approval and drinks were poured. After a second round it was time to hit the hay. They wished each other good night as they each headed off.

The rain was coming down in buckets, and thunder continued to rumble, though it still seemed distant and lasted for what seemed like forever. 

Napoleon put the remaining stew in the fridge but took a detour outside, to add more fuel to the generator. 

The fridge and the freezer with all their food needed to be kept going, but other than that, once they each shut off their lights, the power usage would be at a minimum. 

Once back inside he lowered a wooden bar across the door, an old fashioned lock as it were. It was there to keep the nocturnal creatures from getting into the cabin, but he was sure there were no Thrushies around to bother them.

He yawned, stretching his arms above his head as he walked upstairs to his bedroom for what he anticipated to be a good night’s sleep, free of worries.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Illya tossed and turned in his bed. He could hear the rain falling; the constant tap-tap-tap against his window, but it was the thunder, the way it rolled on seemingly forever that bothered him. It reminded him of something from long ago that made him restless.

He just couldn’t sleep, and going downstairs, he took the bottle of vodka from the fridge, unbarred the door and sat down on one of the Adirondack chairs on the porch, just listening and remembering…

Napoleon was woken up by a particularly loud thunder clap. He was thirsty and on his way downstairs he saw Illya’s door was open and his bed empty. Once downstairs he saw the cabin door was slightly ajar.

Out of habit, he’d brought his Special with him and held it out as he carefully peeked through the open door.

“Illya?”

“I am here Napoleon.”

Solo stepped outside with a shiver as he was barefoot and dressed only in his grey silk pajamas.

There was Illya sitting by the dim light of an oil lamp, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt; the vodka bottle dangled from his hand as it rested on the arm of the wooden chair.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine, no that is not true Napoleon. I am feeling very...  _ unsettled.” _

Solo parked himself in the other chair beside his partner.

“Why?” He whispered.

“The thunder is making me remember things I wanted to forget.”

“Such as…?”

“If you listen to it, the rumbling sounds like ...big guns. Ones that shelled Kyiv when I was little boy.”

Napoleon knew not to ask anything else and just let Illya continue to speak.

“When they started bombing the city the ground beneath our feet shook. Things in our little dacha rattled though we were far away. My infant brothers Misha and Sasha were crying and all the rocking and cooing from my mother would not soothe them. Then little Katyia started to cry as she became terribly frightened.”

There was another prolonged rumble.” See, like that,” Illya said. “That is what it sounded like,” Illya sighed.

“I stood outside with my babushka watching and listening as the night sky lit up from the explosions; my older brother Dimitry and my father were off in Bykivnia forest working with the partisans. I stood there with Baba and she wrapped her arms around me. I was frightened but she told me to be brave. She said I should remember this night and never forget what the Nazis were doing to our city.”

“Illya, every time you set off an explosion, doesn’t that remind you of that night?”

“No, I can not explain it, but the sound is different. I suppose it is because the thunder, like the bombs going off in Kyiv were distant, just as tonight.”

“Are you afraid?”

“No, that fear left me long ago. After my family was killed I was determined to live, to make it through to the end of the war...I barely did. Sometimes it bothers me that I survived. Why me and not anyone else in my family? I survived Sryets...no,” he hesitated.” I will not talk about that. I have said enough.”

“Illya, if not fear, what are you feeling then?”

“Sad my friend, deeply saddened for so many reasons that I am just not ready to talk about. Sorry.”

“That’s fine tovarisch. Thank you for telling me what you did.”

“Napoleon, do not feel sorry for me. I want no pity.”

“Illya, I don’t feel pity for you. I’m proud of you, proud that you survived and of you being my friend. I wouldn’t have any other partner but you, really.”

“Thank you Napoleon.”

“What say we go inside, put that vodka bottle in the fridge and I’ll make you some tea. There’s pie left....no, on second thought I brought along a German chocolate cake as well, but I was saving it for Sunday. How about a slice of it now?”

“Chocolate you say? “ Kuryakin finally smiled, one of those shy, crooked smile’s of his.

After a quiet cup of tea and cake, Illya decided to sleep on the couch in front of the fire. He threw on a couple more logs; the crackling of the wood burning helped drown out some of the sounds of the storm.

Napoleon decided he’d sit in one of the easy chairs and keep Illya company in case he felt like talking again. He knew about his partner being in a concentration camp after the fall of Kiev. Sryets, Illya said the name but he had no idea Napoleon knew what it was, or the horrors a young Kuryakin, the last Kuryakin, had faced there.

It wasn’t Solo’s place to broach the subject, nor to let his partner know that he was aware of some of the intimate details of his past. Illya would have to be the one to bring them up as he had tonight.

The door to Illya’s private world was opened just a little bit, allowing Napoleon a tiny glimpse inside. He closed his eyes, taking satisfaction in that. 

It didn’t really matter if Illya let down his guard with him again or not. He had a right to keep his past private, and that was fine if he did. Yet by opening up tonight, it was a sign of even greater trust that Illya was offering to his partner. 

They trusted each other implicitly with their lives, but tonight Kuryakin showed a different kind of trust to Napoleon and he was grateful for it. Illya was a very secretive man, which made what he said all the more profound.

Napoleon told Illya he was proud of him, and that was the truth. To carry such burdens were terrible, and Illya speaking about just one of them was, in a way, may have lifted some weight from his shoulders.

How Illya internalized the few things Napoleon had read about him and remained sane was beyond belief.”

There’s a saying,” Solo thought to himself as he dozed off,” What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Illya was one of the strongest men he knew.”

With that thought, Napoleon finally fell asleep.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

They were both snoring when they were woken to the sound of a siren; Napoleon and Illya rose immediately, seeing a flashing red light outside the cabin, their guns were in their hands as they had been trained. Grabbing their weapons was an automatic reflex.

Mark and Kitt dashed down the stairs, guns in hand as well and the four of them moved into action as someone pounded against the door.

“Hello? In the cabin. I’m Ranger Pearson. Please open the door! This is an emergency!” A man shouted.

Illya, Mark and Kitt positioned themselves as Napoleon removed the bar and slowly opened the door.

“Thank you sir, sorry to trouble you. We have a bit of an emergency going on here. The Esopus river is overflowing its banks and the cabins below this one have flooded. Yours seems to be out of danger as it’s high enough, though we won’t be certain until the river crests. The road leading out of here has been washed out so the other campers couldn’t get out, including myself. I have them with me in my truck. Can they, actually we, come inside? The storm isn’t supposed to let up for another twenty-four hours.”

Napoleon quickly glanced at his partner who nodded. “Sure please do. How many people do you have with you?”

“A young couple and a family of six...mom, dad, their two young daughters, a son and one rambunctious toddler named Billy.”

“Give us a minute to put on some clothes and we’ll help you get them inside.”

The agents quickly dressed and clamored out into the storm, ushering their visitors into the cabin. The evacuees had grabbed their luggage so at least they had dry clothing to change into.

“Wait,” the little boy named Scott yelled.”What about Molly?”

Napoleon looked to the Ranger. 

“That would be their dog,” Pearson said.

He went back to his vehicle and carried in the black and white animal; it resembled a collie, only smaller.

“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Kent assured everyone.” Molly is very friendly.”

“She is,” her husband Danny added his two cents worth. “She’s a Sheltie, a good herding dog. She watches over the kids really well...keeps them out of trouble.”

Everyone was introduced, though Illya had somehow managed to retreat to the top of the stairs, putting some distance between him and the dog.

Napoleon spied him there and let out a long sigh as he momentarily closed his eyes. Only he knew of his partner’s phobia and he wasn’t about to announce it by repeating to Illya that the dog was friendly.

“Well then,” he said, clapping his hands together.”Who’s hungry?” Even though it was late at night, who knew how long it had been since these poor people had eaten.

Everyone raised their hands.

The thunder continued to rumble as the rain and wind became furious, but Napoleon, being the gracious host pulled out the rest of the stew and warmed it up on the wood burning stove. That he fed to the adults, the kids ate hot dogs, nearly finishing them off. Billy’s was cut up into bite sized pieces.

“Mister Solo,” Mrs. Kent said.” We can’t thank you enough for taking us in. We thought we were going to die when the flood waters surrounded us...Ranger Pearson was a real hero getting us out. Your stew was amazing by the way, you’ll have to give me the recipe when this is all over.” 

The woman reintroduced herself as Sheila and Napoleon watched her shiver as she ate her last bite of stew.

“This is all rather frightening, though Ranger Pearson told us we’ll be safe here,” Napoleon flashed her one of his disarming smiles, reassuring her the Ranger was correct. 

Even if the man wasn’t, he wasn’t about to send the poor woman or the others into a panic.

Napoleon excused himself and had a private conversation with the Ranger.

“Are we actually safe here Rick?” Napoleon asked.

“This cabin is the farthest away from the river, but until the river crests we can’t be sure that we’ll be 100% secure. There’s no way out by car, though the road does go a bit farther up in elevation. I suppose if it looks like we’re in danger of being flooded out here, we’ll have to get everyone in the vehicles and drive on. There’s nothing but a small hunter’s shack up the trail; it’ll make for tight quarters for so many people but it’s better than nothing. That’s why I brought them here first. Why panic them further until we know what’s going on with the river. If the water starts getting close to the road here, then it’ll be time to get out, and fast.”

“Thanks Rick,” Napoleon shook his hand with his other he produced his gold UNCLE ID card. “My friends and I are with the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.”

“UNCLE? Never heard of it...you some sort of cops?”

“Yes, sort of, and we’re quite good at survival. We have resources available to us if need be. I’ll let you know later once I speak to my superior.”

“You have a radio? Could I use it to contact my station and let them know what’s happening. The unit in my vehicle went on the fritz, so no one at the station knows the situation here.”

“It’s not a radio, it’s a well, a communications device but it’s a closed system. I can however ask my office to contact your station and apprise them of the situation. Is there a telephone number?”

“Yes it’s 555-8919. Wow, that’s great you can do this. Later on after this is over maybe you can tell me more about your organization. Are they hiring? I don’t want to stay a Ranger all my life, I want more out of it, maybe a bit more excitement other than what we’re going through right now, well that and forest fires and finding lost hikers and chasing off bears that get a little too attracted to human garbage cans.

Napoleon chuckled as he humored the man, “That sounds pretty exciting to me but I will ask my boss if we’re hiring any time soon.”

Sleeping arrangements were made. The Kents and their brood of four as well as Molly would take Napoleon’s room. The other couple, Dennis and Judy Kavanagh would have Illya’s room.

Ranger Pearson, using his sleeping bag, would bunk with Mark and Kitt.

Napoleon insisted Illya take the couch and he’d snuggle up in a sleeping bag in front of the fire. The Russian had just thrown more logs on before they bedded down. The wind continued to howl, as the rain fell relentlessly. The thunder continued to make its presence known.

Napoleon, laying there trying to relax, spoke to his partner.

“Illya how _did_ you know we’d need extra food to feed all these people?”

Kuryakin just shook his head. “Intuition I guess. I have no reasonable explanation for it.”

Illya laid back, wrapping himself up in his blanket and closed his eyes. Somehow the rumbling thunder and the rain no longer mattered. He supposed confessing to Napoleon as to why it bothered him may have helped. A cleansing of the soul perhaps...if he believed in having one, maybe he did. Perhaps one day he would tell his friend more. 

Illya appreciated the fact that Solo did not pity him; that meant a lot.

“Good night Napoleon and thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

Napoleon smiled to himself. “You’re welcome. Good night Illya and pleasant dreams.”

  



	5. Chapter 5

The next day the rain continued to fall, though the thunder had finally ended. Illya was up early, wolfing down the cold remains of the beef stew for breakfast before disappearing outside to the porch to keep watch. He also wanted to make sure he wasn’t anywhere in proximity to the dog.

Soon there was a waterfall inside the cabin as the children woke and cascaded down the stairs, invading the living room and filling it with giggles and screams, while the dog barked.

The door opened and Mrs. Kent appeared, letting the dog out to do its business. 

“Oh good morning...Illya is it?”

“Yes, good morning. If you will excuse me, I need to check the firewood.” He quickly disappeared around the side of the cabin.

“Hurry up Molly!” She called to the dog as it circled in place, trying to find the right spot and moment to relieve herself.

Once back inside Molly shook herself, sending those near to her scrambling not to get wet.

“Scott, go get a towel for Mommy and help dry off Molly, will you?”

The boy seemed to ignore her.

“Scott!,” Danny Kent growled.”Do as your mother said, now!”

“Yes sir.”

Napoleon had slept in his clothes, as had Illya and he offered his good mornings to all. Heading straight for the kitchen, he began to prepare breakfast. There’d have to be a bit of rationing, still the cereal would go fast as would the bacon and the eggs, so would the flapjacks.

He decided to scramble the eggs, adding milk and water to stretch them a bit.. Thank God he’d brought the Bisquick as there would be more than enough biscuits to go round. Tomorrow he’d make venison breakfast biscuits as there wouldn’t be enough bacon left to go around, and the cereal was just about gone after the kids had at it.

Everyone ate in shifts, the kids first, under the supervision of their mother, then the adults. Napoleon ate in the kitchen and sent Kitt outside with a plate of bacon, eggs, biscuits, jam and tea to Illya, along with the last of the brie, crackers and caviar. He refused to come inside because of the dog...though he didn’t let Kittridge know that was the reason why.

“It is a bit too hectic,” Illya lied. “Better I stay here and keep an eye out for rising flood waters.”

“Suit yourself mate, though if you want to take a break just let me know and I’ll come out. To tell you the truth those ankle biters are making me a bit jumpy.”

“Children can sometimes do that Kitt. Thank you for bringing out my breakfast.”

Kitt nodded before retreating back inside.

Napoleon remained in the kitchen, this time preparing a venison stew. He didn’t use any sherry as the kids would be eating it as well. 

Cutting the meat into small pieces, he put them in a large skillet, browning the meat in oil. He added onions, garlic, some Worcestershire sauce, oregano, salt, and water. 

It would take at least two hours to simmer for the meat to be tender. Luckily he’d cooked venison before and was familiar with it. Later he’d add potatoes, carrots and celery. That was the end of the vegetables.

He’d serve it with the egg noodles. There’d be more than enough to go around. While the stew was cooking Napoleon took more of the venison from the fridge and using a grinder he found in a cabinet, he made ground meat for burgers, sans buns.

He used the bacon bits and grease from breakfast to mix with it as venison always needed a bit of fat to make into burgers. All he had to do was add some oil, spices and more Worcestershire sauce and they’d taste great, at least he hoped so. He put the finished burgers into the fridge until needed.

Cutting up more of the venison for steaks, he also sliced pieces thin enough as they could be substituted for bacon. 

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,”he thought. “Thank God Illya brought home the...bacon.” He laughed at that thought. They’d gone from three appetites, plus Illya’s to twelve...plus Illya. The food he’d brought was going fast. 

It could be days before they got out of here, better to have meals prepared ahead of time. He’d have to be a little creative …” 101 ways to cook venison,” he chuckled to himself. Napoleon decided to finish up for now.

Sheila came into the kitchen, offering to help but he declined. 

“Are you a chef or something like that?” She was amazed at what he had whipped up. 

“Only an amateur one Mrs. Kent,” he winked at her.

“Please call me Sheila, and then one amateur to another, let me do something to help?”

“Amateur...you? I hardly think so. You have a small army to feed on a daily basis, that takes a real pro.”

“Why thank you. I don’t get that kind of acknowledgement from my husband. It’s not easy being a homemaker with all the cleaning, laundry, cooking and nurse maiding I have to do...and it’s a job for which I don’t get paid. Maybe I’ll get a part time job and let my husband see what it’s like to take care of a family when I’m not around.”

“That sounds like an interesting plan. Now really just go relax, take a nap, bring the radio into the living room if you want, put on some music. You obviously do enough work at home so there’s nothing wrong with you taking it easy. I’ve got things under control in the kitchen.”

“I should send my husband in here, maybe he could learn a few things from you.”

“Now might not be the right time for that.” 

The last thing Napoleon needed was a domestic dispute, as surely the husband wouldn’t take kindly to his wife’s suggestion as to his inadequacies in comparison to himself. 

“I understand,” she smiled before she turned and left Napoleon alone.

After cleaning and washing up Napoleon decided to head outside to see if Illya wanted to take a break. He made tea for the both of them. He snuck a slice of chocolate cake on a plate, covered it with Saran wrap, and stuck in his pocket so the kids wouldn’t see it. He was saving the cake for dessert tomorrow night, though the slices would have to be a little small. He second guessed himself, thinking it might be better to serve it tonight. It would keep the kids happy.

When he walked into the living room he realized every light was on, along with the radio playing some innocuous music.

“Folks, I hate to put a damper on things...no pun intended, but we need to turn out most of the lights. We’re operating on generator power and we need to conserve so we don’t use up all our fuel. Our refrigerator and freezer take priority.” 

He tossed another log onto the fire and saw they needed more wood.

Mark was playing jacks on the floor with the kids, keeping them amused. Little Billy was tormenting the dog Molly, who seemed to be oblivious to it...guess she was a good dog after all. The other men were playing cards and Sheila had joined Mrs. Kavanagh on the sofa, making some girl talk.

The Kavanaghs were both pretty quiet and kept to themselves. They said nothing at breakfast. Napoleon found that a bit odd, though he had a hunch they were harmless. They seemed like a young couple in love, and a little frightened too.

Everyone complied, turning off all but one lamp, between the fire and it, that was enough light for now.

Napoleon headed to the porch, finding Illya lost in thought. His breakfast plate was empty, sitting there on the floor beside him.

“Thought you’d like a break. Tea and cake tovarisch? I figured you might be getting a bit peckish by now.”

“You know me all too well my friend. I have been watching the water levels and they are still rising. We may not be safe for much longer.”

“Peachy.” Napoleon sat down with his partner. “Why don’t you go inside, have a nap or something. I can keep watch.

“No thank you. I prefer to remain distant from that dog, unless you can convince the family to lock it upstairs in one of the bedrooms.”

“Ahhh, but then they’d ask the reason why. I’m not about to let that phobia of yours be like a cat out of the bag.”

Illya snickered. “That was a very strange analogy my friend.” 

“Maybe I could say you were allergic?”

“Do not bother. I imagine the dog’s presence is comforting to the children. I will be fine out here. Once they go to bed right after supper, I can come inside, though I suggest someone take my place out here to keep watch on the rising waters.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They sat together, drinking their tea. Illya devoured his slice of cake in a few bites.

“Have you notified Waverly of our situation?”

“Indirectly. I called HQ and asked them to call the ranger station regarding Pearson’s whereabouts as well as that of the campers. If things change for the better or for the worse I’ll speak to the Old Man directly. There’s nothing UNCLE can do to help us right now anyway.”

Dinner came and went, and the venison stew went over very well, that was until the kids found out it was deer meat.

“You mean we’re eating Bambi!” One of the girls squealed. That was followed by a cacophony of gasps and moans.

Sheila ended up going into the kitchen and boiling the last of the hotdogs, serving them on the brown bread, along with baked beans.

“Baked beans!” Scott exclaimed. “Don’t give any to Dad ‘cause they’ll make him fart. _Beans beans good for your heart, the more you eat the more you…”_

“Stop it right now young man or you’ll be sent to bed without any supper. Am I clear?” His mother chastised him.

“Yes ma’am.”

What the boy said though seemed to break the tension and they all got a laugh out of it. Out of the mouths of babes, as it were.

Finally, the appearance of the chocolate cake made the children happy enough.

Napoleon was again complimented on the meal. While the others cleaned up and did the dishes, he brought Illya his bowl of stew, a beer and the last slice of cake.

His partner gave the venison one taste and offered his compliments to the chef. 

“You have outdone yourself Napoleon.” They clinked their beer bottles together. 

It didn’t take Illya long to finish it all.

“Seconds?”

“No, that was very filling. Perhaps later I will have more. We have plenty of meat for a while so the venison does not need to be rationed.”

“Hopefully we won’t be stuck here much longer,” his partner sighed. 

Napoleon left him and went round the side of the cabin to bring in more wood. He topped off the gas for the generator and thanked the powers that be there was plenty of gasoline for now, and brought the wood inside.

Mark appeared and helped him, though he questioned why Illya was staying outside all day.

“It’s what he wants to do Mark. Are you going to argue with a stubborn Russian?”

“Not at all.”

“He said someone can take the next shift once everyone's gone to bed.”

“I can do that. I’ll just nip up for a bit of a kip until then,” Mark smiled.

“But I..” Napoleon tried to interrupt.

“You’ve been cooking all day. Take a break. You can have a go tomorrow if we need to still keep a lookout.”

“Fair enough,” Napoleon said, but he hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

After dinner, everyone sat quietly in the living room. There was no conversation, even the radio was turned off.

Finally the decision was made to go to bed and everyone except the agents and Ranger Rick remained.

“I’ll go get Illya and take over the watch,”Mark said. 

“I’ll go next,” Rick offered.

“That leaves me mate,” Kitt said to Napoleon. “You’ll have your hands full cooking up the grub for this mob in the morning. No need for you to stand watch.”

Napoleon nodded his acceptance as he was in no mood to argue. 

“Let me make a pot of strong coffee before you go out Mark.”

Once that was done, Slate headed out to relieve Illya, who was grateful for the change of scenery.

“The water is still rising,” he said, “I have my doubts the river has crested yet as the rain is continuing to fall. At least the winds have died down and the rain is not as driving.”

“Thanks for the update. The living room is yours and Napoleon’s so pleasant dreams.”

“Thank you Mark. I think I will have a bit more stew before I sleep.”

Slate took his place in the Adirondack chair, sipping his mug of coffee and hoping the caffeine would keep him awake.

Illya headed inside and straight for the kitchen.

“There you are at last tovarisch,” Napoleon smiled.” I was just warming up some stew for you.”

“No need, but thank you. I will eat it hot or cold.”

“Suit yourself,” Solo doled out the stew straight from the pot into a bowl and handed it over to his partner.

Illya sat at the table, eating slowly, enjoying every morsel as if it were his last meal.

“How is it outside?” Napoleon asked.

“The water is moving closer to us. We may have to get out and move to higher ground.”

“Rick discussed that with me. There’s a hunter’s shack farther up. We can drive but we’ll have to walk the last leg to get to it. It’s going to be a tight squeeze. Illya, you’ll have to …”

“Yes I know, the dog. I will not think about it until when and if the time comes.” He emptied the bowl and took it into the kitchen where he washed and dried it.

Napoleon finally laid down on top of his sleeping bag. Before he closed his eyes he threw another couple of logs on the fire.

Leaving one light on in the room seemed like a good idea as it would be easier to make an escape if they needed to do so. Fumbling around in the dark would only slow everyone down. Getting thirteen people out fast had a tight margin for error, especially with four children and a dog.

It was around three in the morning when Rick came down to relieve Mark and as soon as he stepped outside, he shined his flashlight out into the darkness. He could hear the sound of the river now more clearly than ever.

“I think we need to go,” he said.

Everyone was woken and told it was time to move; the water was getting too close for comfort.

They were instructed to dress warmly, but to leave their luggage behind. The only extras the agents would bring were their Specials, their rifles, rope and knives as well as their backpacks to carry food and canteens filled with water.

Napoleon decided to bring the venison stew, the last of the milk and whatever assorted fruits were left. He grabbed the bottles of booze, and the soda pop. The kids would be hungry and thirsty, and the adults too perhaps for something warming. He threw it all in their cooler; a frozen piece of venison would act as ice, keeping everything cold for now.

Rick advised they bring oil lamps and matches of course.

Some of the kids began crying as they were told the news, but time was wasting; they had to get into the ranger’s truck.

The agents drove in their jeep, following Rick up the road until he stopped. He pointed to a trail he said led to the shack. They had to manage by flashlight, still no one could see the shack and had to trust the ranger on its location.

They formed a single line with Napoleon and Illya helping to carry the boys. Mr. Kavanagh and Kitt carried the cooler, Mr. Kent had his daughters, while Rick helped Mrs. Kavanagh and Mrs. Kent navigate the trail as he led the way.

The Kavanaghs were quiet people, keeping to themselves. They’d hardly uttered a word all this time until the husband announced his wife was pregnant. All the more reason for the ranger to help her, as well as Mrs. Kent. The women carried the oil lamps, helping to light the way.

All this in the pouring rain.

Illya took a deep breath as the dog seemed to want to be beside him, or perhaps it was because he was carrying Billy. He’d abandoned his slingbow and quiver, with only his rifle slung over his shoulder, and his backpack filled with first aid supplies, that was about it.

“Should you not have the dog on a leash?” He called out.

“She’s fine, Mrs. Kent called back. :She’ll stick with us.”

Kuryakin tried not to show the dog’s presence was unnerving him.

“Why don’t you like Molly?” Billy asked.” She likes you. She likes everybody. She a good puddy dog.”

That innocent reassurance from a child helped bolster Illya’s courage as Molly continued to walk beside him. At least the beast didn’t try to touch him.

There was a sudden roar and the water from the river rose at a startling rate. Both vehicles only a few yards off were swept away in the blink of an eye. 

Kuryakin, being the last in line with the child in his arms, found the water suddenly rushing around him. He tossed Billy to Napoleon, then his rifle and backpack. He had but to climb over a fallen tree and he would be out of harm’s way if he ran for it.

It was then he heard it, the yelp of the dog. 

Molly was being swept away.

Without a second thought Illya dove after her, and being a powerful swimmer he managed to grab her and at the same time latch onto a large oak tree.

He pulled himself up, though he wrenched his shoulder doing so as he clutched the dog to his chest; he climbed higher with his arm wrapped around her, pulling them out of the rushing water for now.

The others couldn’t see him in the darkness until Mark shined a flashlight as they all screamed the Russian’s name and the child’s.

 **_“ILLYA! Molly!”_ ** They called again and again.

“I am all right,” he called back. “I am in a tree with the ...thr dog. Stay where you are! There is nothing you can do to rescue me for now. I think the tree is sturdy enough to withstand the flood waters.”

“We’ll come get you,”Napoleon called. “We have plenty of rope.”

 **_“NO!_ ** Stay where you are. I will be fine.”

Ranger Rick hurried everyone into the shack that was no more than fifty feet away. There was barely enough room inside for them, and only if the children remained in someone’s arms. Mrs, Kavanagh was given a seat on the cooler. 

The youngsters were shivering and crying for Molly and it was all their parents and the others could do to calm them.

Sheila dug into her husband’s backpack, coming up with grapes and offering them to her children as a distraction.

Napoleon remained outside in the rain, talking to his partner and making sure he was indeed all right. The water seemed to be leveling off and not getting any higher, though not lower either.

“Illya if I climb the trees nearest to me I can get a rope out to you. You can at least tie yourself to the tree in case you fall asleep.”

“Trust me, I will not be sleeping. Go into the shack. I will be fine. It will be much easier to retrieve me once it is daylight.”

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

You’re not getting rid of me that easily tovarisch.” 

If Illya wasn’t going to let him help, he would at least stay nearby and talk. Hopefully that would keep his partner from nodding off. Illya had the uncanny knack of being able to fall asleep anywhere, but this was one place Napoleon didn’t want that to happen.

“So you rescued a dog. Pretty impressive,” Napoleon called.

“Yes, so what of it?”

“Well given your ummm, dislike of them, I think that’s impressive.”

“I suppose. I could not let the children be traumatized further by losing their family pet. Losing a pet is painful.”

“Illya, did you have a pet when you were a child?” 

  
“Chickens, we had chickens. My sister Katiya and I…” he hesitated.

“Yes?”

“We used to play with them. One always got out of the coop while I was cleaning it and we would chase it until it was caught, but not until we stopped laughing.” **

“Those really weren’t your pets though, were they?”

“No. We...they would eventually be food. Once the chickens stopped laying because of the shelling of the city, they had to be killed one by one. Grain was scarce to feed them and when they no longer provided eggs then into the pot they went.”

“So no pets?”

“I had a cat for a short time. He actually found me when I was hiding in the ruins of the city. The dacha had been destroyed, no one was left. I went into Kyiv in search of food. He was very good at catching rats and would bring them to me. I would roast them for us to eat.”

 _“_ **_Rats…_ **” Solo lowered his voice, repeating the word. “Rats, really?”

“Napoleon, Kyiv had all been but destroyed by the shelling, as well as booby traps left by the retreating Red army. There was little food left to eat. There were packs of roaming dogs that would chase me and the other street orphans, though I did learn to kill them with a crude wooden spear that I made. Dog meat is very good, especially when you are hungry. Eventually the rats were all gone as were the dogs.”

“What happened to your cat...wait, don’t tell me you ate it?”

“I do not know what happened to him. After the Germans swept through the city, they caught all the orphaned children and took… took us to an internment camp. I never saw the cat again.”

Illya went silent after that.

“You okay?” Napoleon called.

“Yes. The internment camp is a subject I do not wish to speak about.”

“No problem tovarisch.”

Illya looked down at the dog who was staring up at him with her big brown eyes. She jerked in his arms as she went for him and he was ready to drop her when she began to whine and lick his face.

“Stop Molly, umm, that is unnecessary.”

The dog gave him a cheerful woof, as if she understood what he was saying. 

Napoleon and Illya continued conversing until the sun came up. It had stopped raining and they realized more clearly they weren’t that far apart.

Kitt tied a rope round his waist and headed out, since Napoleon had to admit he wasn’t that strong a swimmer. 

Kittridge carried a second rope with him to tie to Illya while Solo, Slate and the other men held on to help pull Kuryakin and Kitt to safety.

Once Illya was back with Molly, there was a joyous cheer as the door to the shack opened. The children were happy and were even willing to eat the leftover venison and other food that had been grabbed in a rush. It wasn’t much but it was more than welcome and a means of celebrating the rescue and making it through the night. Molly earned a piece of venison as well.

Napoleon finally made the decision to contact headquarters to apprise Mister Waverly of their near disastrous situation.

“Open Channel D- Waverly.” He quickly summarized the situation to his boss.

“Mister Solo, how is it you and Mister Kuryakin manage to get yourselves in these situations while on your time off between assignments?”

“I don’t know sir, luck I guess,” Napoleon couldn‘t help but smile to himself.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting an extraction,” the Old Man sighed.

“Umm, that would be helpful sir. A helicopter, perhaps a huey would be best since there’s so many of us in need of rescuing.”

“There’s a clearing around a hundred yards farther up the trail,”Rick interrupted.

“I heard that Mister Solo, who is speaking?”

“Ranger Pearson sir, he helped rescue two families as their cabins flooded and brought them to the one in which we were staying. That eventually flooded as well. He led us here to safety; at present we’re sheltering in a hunter’s shack.”

“Well done Mister Pearson, well done. Mister Solo if you and the ranger could locate that clearing, we can triangulate your position from your communicator signal.”

“Yes sir,” he looked to Rick who nodded.” On our way now. Solo out.”

Everyone was gathered together and again led by the ranger to the rendezvous point for the helicopter.

It was about an hour later when they heard the whipping of helicopter blades; Napoleon’s communicator chirped and the voice of an UNCLE pilot spoke to him.

“Mister Solo, your chariot has arrived.”

“Roger that, good to hear your voice.”

“Good to be heard sir.” He eyed the group waiting below in the clearing as they began to wave to him.

”If you could have everyone move back as the blades may stir up some debris.”

“WILCO,” Napoleon answered..

The helicopter landed without incident and one by one everyone boarded. 

A huey had a capacity of nine, including the pilot but even if the combined weight of the children equalled roughly one adult, the payload would still over the maximum.

Rick volunteered to stay. “Hey I’m a ranger, it’s my job to be here.”

“Tell you what Rick,” Napoleon said.”I’ll keep you company, if you don’t mind. We can talk about the U.N.C.L.E. while we wait for the chopper to come back for us.

“Fair enough,” Rick smiled.

The rescue was complete, and the Red Cross was waiting for the Kents and the Kavanaghs. They were just outside one of the towns located far enough away from the Esopus and their trip back to civilization wouldn’t take long.

An UNCLE Medical team was on hand as the Command took care of its own.

The chopper landed, letting its passengers disembark before returning for Napoleon and Ranger Pearson.

Once everyone was together again, farewells were said to the families and Ranger Pearson.. with.whom Napoleon had set up an interview to meet with Mister Waverly. Perhaps Survival School was in Rick’s future?

For some reason, Illya had continued to hold onto Molly under one arm, while nursing his sore shoulder. He announced that he did not want her to run off. 

Napoleon watched his partner scratch the dog’s head as he whispered something to her before handing her over to her family. He even let Molly lick his face, again.

“So tovarisch,” Napoleon sidled up to Illya whose left arm had immediately been put into a sling as a precaution.

Both of them were wrapped in blankets and had been handed hot cups of coffee. Mark and Kitt had already gotten into a blue UNCLE van waiting for them as the huey was needed for other water rescues.

  
“What did you say to Molly?” Napoleon asked.

“I thanked her for being a good dog and for not biting me.”

“So does that mean you’re not afraid of dogs anymore?”

“Afraid? I was never afraid of dogs; I just do not trust them.”

“Illya Nickovich Kuryakin, you are one hell of a liar.”

“Why thank you Napoleon Antony Solo. I take that as a compliment.”

They climbed into the van and the doors were closed behind them.

“So who’s up for a trip to the beach? “Napoleon said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “We still have some vacation time to kill.”

He was answered with three empty paper coffee cups sent flying his way.

  


*** Coxey's Army** was a protest march by unemployed workers from the United States, led by Ohio businessman Jacob **Coxey** . ... It was the first significant popular protest march on Washington, and the expression " **Enough food to feed Coxey's Army** " originates from this march that took place in 1894.

 **** ref.** To[ **“Beginnings”**](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6767104/1/Beginnings%E2%80%9C) Illya’s epic backstory taking place during WWII and [“The Orphanage”](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7966571/1/The-Orphanage) a drabble backstory that takes place post WWII. 

***** ref.** to [“There’s something rotten in Block Island Affair.”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19406416/chapters/46182472)

  



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